Titanium
by XyeahyeahsowhatX
Summary: The full, untold, life story of Johanna Mason
1. Departing The Cave

**Titanium**

**A/N ~ Rated T for later chapters, and language. Though really, from what I already have written up on my laptop, that might be cutting it close. Because, you know, violence – naturally – prostitution(ish), blackmail, deaths, gore, torture… All that lovely stuff that happens in our lovely fandom. Anyways, this starts with her Games; follows through the Victory Tour; the death of her family when she refused, well, what they did to Finnick; the Quell; torture; rebellion – all of it. I just love this chick so freakin' much. **

**Also, what did y'all think of Jena Malone as Jo? Personally, I think she was PERFECT. She totally nailed it.**

Johanna Mason was shaking as she clung to the tree. The bark, familiar under her fingers, comforted her. At any moment, she knew, she could be dead. Just… Dead. Maybe within the hour. Maybe within the _minute_. There could be some tribute watching her right now, blowdarts or throwing dagger or arrow or something ready, waiting for her, waiting to stop her heart. _And that_, she thought, _was what made the fucking celebrations._

She should never have left her godforsaken cave, and yet the aching pit and nausea of hunger had started to overpower her. _And anyway, the motherfucking Gamemakers would have just set up another torture to drive me from it_.

The District 7 tribute was simply itching to get her hands around an axe – the axes they supplied here! Sturdy and gleaming, sharp enough to shave a spider. But _oh no_. Play it weak, they said. That'll work, they said. "Is working now?" She spat at the ground. "Now I'm fucking starving to death!" And then she remembered herself, prayed they didn't show _that_ on TV, and went back to snivelling against the tree trunk. But either way, she knew she had to find food. And fast.

Johanna had made off from the Cornucopia with a little plastic box, a few feet in, that could contain anything. What she found it did contain, was a fucking roll of _bandage_. Which, you know, would be quite helpful should she be bleeding to death; which she wasn't. She was _avoiding_ the other morons. What she needed was food. Water – water was no problem. She'd stumbled across a healthily bubbling freshwater spring on the first day.

There were a few goats (at least, she thought they were goats. A weird type of goat.) wandering around, waiting to be eaten by some lucky bastard, but even if she had anything to hunt them _with_, there'd be repercussions. Say, if anyone _saw_ and decided she was worth their time. Worth _killing_. No, she needed to stay inconspicuous, forgotten.

There were a few chestnuts, or what looked like chestnuts. From all the Games she had studied in the Capitol, she couldn't be sure. They could be some trick. Most likely they were a trick.

The deafening _bang_ of the canon split through the air without warning, and Johanna nearly jumped out of her skin. When she came to her senses, she had to really try to contain her happiness. One heart no longer beating, one mourning family who would never recover, one step closer to life.

She shivered violently, wrapping the thick, insulated coat tighter around herself. This arena was a cold one, alright. Pine forests, glazed with frost, a jagged, grey mountain shrouded in snow. Alpine, almost. Johanna knew a swollen, icy stream twisted its way through the arena, and she knew they'd be some sort of fish there; she also knew the stealthy, steadily-stocked Career pack of six had claimed the land along the banks, and she knew the girl from four had set up some sort of fishing pole contraption there. So fish was out of the question.

As evening struggled to reclaim the sky, Johanna Mason knew she wouldn't last much longer without food. It was then, that she saw the rabbit. _Fuck it_, she thought, _I'm hunting. Nobody's going to see. Nobody's going to care – it's just one rabbit. And I swore to myself, I'm going to walk out of this hellhole alive_.

Breath held, Johanna crept forth, soft, fur-lined boots soundless against the carpet of torn, wet, clinging leaf mulch and pine needles, as light, shapeless snowflakes drifted dreamily down, too uniform to be natural – these were Gamemaker-made snowflakes. So, Johanna deduced, eyes still glued to the thick, white fur of the rabbit, it would probably progress to a blizzard within the hour. A deathly blizzard. Only half her mind snagged on that, of course. The beady-eyed ball of fluff in front of her made her stomach growl under all the Capitol-manufactured layers.

She crouched down, stretched out her arms, fingers splayed. "Here, little rabbit," She breathed, "Come on, come to Johanna," The creature sniffed the air and stayed firmly still. _Stupid rabbit_.

She drew her stake from the loop of her belt – she'd taken to fashioning a weapon, even as pathetic a weapon as she'd managed, as soon as she was sure she was safe. Well. As safe as she could be. So, she'd taken a flint and sharpened a stick, like she'd watched people do back home in seven, until she had something that wouldn't run a tribute through, but would poke him full of holes if she was fast enough. Fast, however, was never Johanna Mason's strong point. She preferred brute strength, to be honest, but with her angle… Fast was all she had.

Johanna saw a flash of reproachfulness in the animal's eyes. _Fuck_.

"Dumb bunny," She muttered, flashing out and grasping the frantic thing. If she weren't wearing so many layers, her wrists and arms would be scratched right up. It took gritted teeth and several, laborious attempts before the rabbit ceased it's wriggling and she felt its heart stop. This, of course, presented her with the problem of preparing it – she had no knife. She had a fucking _bandage_.

Johanna hastily scrambled back to her cave with the carcass, breathing a sigh of relief. She had assembled a small collection of sharp stones, flint mostly, and had a heap of twigs drying out in the corner. The entrance to her little private hiding place was nearly completely concealed. If she had an axe, she could have cut up some wood and properly disguised the entrance. Oh well. She'd had to make do with some leaves and stuff.

The smouldering remains of the fire she'd built earlier still smoked a little. She'd made sure to spend a copious amount of time at the fire-building station in the Training Centre. All the smoke made her cough, a little, but it kept the stone pocket a little warmer. Johanna spent the best part of half an hour attempting to kindle another tiny fire, and when a spark finally caught, set about skinning and boning the rabbit. It was a messy business.

By the time she was done, the flies would have started to move in, had she not – reluctantly – ventured out to catch some water from the icy little spring, in the box her _bandage_ came in, and wash away the sticky residue of blood and guts, leaving the bones and all other inedible parts in a hollow pine. She noted the snow still assaulted the arena.

She tried to fashion a spit over her meagre fire, and succeeded in heating up the meat by – well, not much. She ate only what she could survive on – the rest was clumsily cut with a sharp rock and kept in the plastic box. As night drew in, Johanna could tell it'd be the coldest by far. After cleaning up the rabbit fur as best she could, Johanna Mason wrapped it around one of the fire-warmed rocks and held it close. Eventually, she had to fall back on the bandage, and wrap that around her, tight.

Still, she shivered violently, non stop. _Fuck the hunger. I'll probably freeze to death._

Johanna had no idea what time it was when she heard the Career tributes outside.

"So who's that left?"

"Nine, Three, Five, Eleven, and Seven."

"We should try and get onto Three's trail as soon as we can. That Xander, he's smart. He did get and eight for a training score."

"Right. And he got that – whatever that was – from the Cornucopia."

Johanna held her breath, clenched her teeth to stop them chattering, felt her heart throwing itself wildly against her ribcage, like a bird in a cage. She'd be on television now. She could just _imagine_ the _fun_ that Caesar Flickerman would be having with _this_. She pictured Head Gamemaker, Erus Tuner, _readying a canon_. Her father and sister at home, watching.

"Ky, remind me again why we had to leave the riverside? It's _freezing_ here. We need to find shelter."

"We're _in_ a forest, Sage!"

"Yeah, in a snow storm. Come on, let's just go back."

"I'm with Sage."

"Me too."

"But –"

Johanna listening, straining her numb ears with baited breath, alive with terror. Crunching. Boots on snow. Undoubtedly. _So the snow did set then_. For the first time. She doubted it'd be the last time. Heavy breathing. Clinking of weapons.

"Wait."

"Ugh, Ky, what now?"

Knocking. Fist on wood. Johanna winced, stretching out a hand, trembling half in fear, half in coldness, for her stake, for a flint. Her fingers protested, unwilling to comply. Too numb, too clumsy.

"This tree! It's hollow!"

"Big freaking whoop. Come _on_. Let's go get some more fish, and we can set up the tent pack by –"

"Huh… That's weird…"

"Ky, what are you doing?" Exasperated.

Johanna shuffled up further into the corner of her cave, numb, stiff, pink fingers scrabbling along the icy-cold stone wall, searching for a back exit, breath steaming.

"Holy shit!" The voice she'd labelled as Ky – if she remembered correctly, he was the boy from District 1 - exclaimed. The Careers were so _arrogant_, so self-assured, they made as much noise as they wanted, more. Nobody would dare approach or challenge them. "Someone's been here before us. Entrails."

"What?"

"Entrails. Some kind of small animal entrails. Terribly cleaned though. Someone dumb."

"Yeah, so? They're obviously not here anymore. Let's just get moving, I'm freezing my ass off over here."

"No they're… Not."

Johanna Mason froze as she saw the boy's eye, right through one of the wounds in her feeble attempts at disguising her cave. Her heart was sinking. Her blood turned to ice in her veins, weighing her down. _Fuck_.

"There's a gap there, in the foliage. A hideaway or something." Johanna saw a wide, shark like grin spread across the Career brute's face, too many teeth, too much malice. "And I'll bet… some poor little rat of a tribute is in there… trapped."

A roar of approval erupted from the Careers, jeering taunts and excited _whoop_s. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

'Ky' knelt down to look through.

_Fuck._

"Well look what I found…"

**A/N ~ Is this good? Do ya like it? Reviews make my day and inspire my muse.**


	2. An Act

**Titanium**

**A/N ~ Righty ho. More Jo for Yo. Don't ask – I've been up since three am and have been surviving on Lucozade and rich tea biscuits, watching terrible quality recordings of the original Broadway casts of all my favourite musicals. Oh, what a wonderful life. Once again, if you like it, please review, since your lovely comments are what gets my lazy arse back to my laptop. And constructive criticism would be great, if you have any! Love ya, love Johanna. I'm rambling. Sorry. ONWARDS WITH JOJO.**

… **She's going to kill me for calling her that, isn't she?**

Johanna felt her bandage-wrapped fingers tighten around the splintering stake.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

Approving snickers, between Careers. The boy leaning in had to be a eighteen or so, District 1, sandy-blond hair and eyes as cold and hard as flint, gleaming in malicious anticipation. Behind him, she caught sight of the rest of them, frozen. The girl, Sage, from Two, had a bow with an arrow ready, and a quiver of arrows slung over her arm. Johanna's eyes snagged on an axe clumsily stuck through her belt, and felt a hot rush of jealousy. _Her _axe. _They were meant for her_. Of course, that was completely stupid. The Gamemakers had never seen her throw an axe. Had they, she'd probably be _in_ the godforsaken Career pack. Courtesy of the high score she was certain she'd get.

Not that it fucking mattered now she was about to be _killed_.

"Ky, quit messing. Just kill her already. We need to get moving."

Johanna was almost certain that the boy who spoke was from District… Four?

_Fuck._ Her angle at the Games was hardly in her favour now. Keep it up, act weak and snivelling and trembling and terrified, get slaughtered; grab the axe, fight them, show her true colours, get hunted down by them, get slaughtered. _What a wonderful fucking choice, what a fucking wonderful opportunity._

"Where you from, little girl?" Ky asked, still grinning that shark grin.

"S-seven," Though her words only stumbled out of her mouth stuttering because of the cold, it seemed her act had decided to continue by itself. She sighed inwardly, preparing herself for the Pathetic-Johanna.

"'S-seven'?" The one she was almost certain was Sage laughed. "Ah, poor little Seven. Kill her, and let's go."

"P-please. Don't. Don't kill me, I'm just – I'm so hungry, please…" She whimpered. And _fucking hated_ herself for it. Her father, her sister, her baby brother, they were all _watching _this shit. And here she was, practically signing her funeral papers. The Careers erupted into raucous laughter. It took every _inch_ of her not to lash out and tear them all to obnoxious, bite-size pieces, grab that axe from Sage and bury it in her face, and watch her laughter die out with her fucking heartbeat.

She clenched the stake in her palm until it pierced her skin, just to make the tears gather in her eyes. "Please… I'm just… Please… P-_please_…"

When Ky pulled out a heavy, gleaming sword, blade well honed, darkened with a residue of blood, blood that not so long ago pumped around the veins of kids, _kids_, none older than eighteen, he'd lunged forth and slashed at her within a second, and a tearing, searing pain in her arm tore into her.

He took a step, and she took a hundred.

Johanna tore through the trees, bare branches, crooked and jagged, witches fingers reaching out to tear at her. She didn't give a fuck how many branches cut her. As long as the _sword_ didn't, she was sure she'd be perfectly fine.

She didn't stop running until she collided with a pine, and fell down into the snow, now a good two or three feet, and her eyes were stinging with the force of the ice and cold tearing at her. Good. If she looked like she was crying, that would be much better. There was no sign of Ky or Sage or any of the others. She hadn't been followed by their footsteps, angry hollers, weapons. She had been followed by their laughed. She sighed. Still, she'd agreed to this stupid plan. And, reluctantly, she admitted to herself; it was working, so far.

With luck, they'd have passed her off as not worth pursuing.

Breathing so heavily she was certain it'd almost be passed off as hyperventilation, it took her a long time, of sitting in _snow_, seeing spots and a black haze cloud her vision, throat raw, to realise the shallow, long gash in her upper arm needed attending to. It wasn't a deep cut, but the flow of blood was steadily oozing. She had to staunch it with something. But by dressing it properly with her bandage, she'd expose her hands to the full force of the cold. _Some choice. Fucking President Snow and his fucking Hunger Games._

If she froze to death tonight, it'd all be for nothing.

The Gamemakers were certainly making up for the _boring_ness of last year, she thought to herself, watching her breath mist in the air in front of her.

Johanna stood up sharply, and started, once again, running. Running. For no other purpose than to keep warm. She had been so _stupid_ to escape the Cornucopia with only a fucking _bandage_. If she didn't do something soon, she would freeze to death. The running warmed her a little, but that woul hardly save her life. Her fingers were turning numb. Clumsy. Useless.

It was going to be a long, long night.

**A/N ~ Guys! Sorry about this chapter... Just a filler. I couldn't leave you guys hanging on too long, about Jo's little _event_ with the Careers. ;) I'll post a longer, more fulfilling update soon. Thank you for your lovely reviews - keep them coming. They make my day and inspire my muse. **


End file.
